


The End of the Beginning

by frogfarm



Series: Buffy Etcetera: (Shorts) By Request [29]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Anal, Annual Femslash Kinkmeme, Community: femslash_kink, Dominance, F/F, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: An idle remark from Faith sends Willow down a dark path. Oh, the pun of it all.Set in early S3.





	The End of the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> For Femslash Kink 2018. Requested: Faith/Willow, anal, top!Faith.
> 
> Not part of [Faith the Vampire Slayer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/562). Although one or the both of them probably dreamed this at some point.

It starts off innocent enough: Just another night at the Bronze, listening to the latest pseudoindependent band and keeping one eye out for vampires. Xander's off somewhere helping Giles pick up piles of books and put them down, and so it falls to Willow to keep Faith occupied while they await Buffy's arrival. She's been feeling herself weaken every time Faith tries to coax her onto the dance floor, so it comes as quite a relief when Buffy finally makes her appearance, informing Faith that they're stuck with demon identification flash cards before getting to go on patrol.

"That'll be a pain in the ass," Faith mutters, rolling her eyes. "And not in the fun way."

Willow's mind is simultaneously paralyzed and thrown into overdrive. Faith rises from her seat, slinging her leather jacket over her shoulder without a backward glance.

"Seeya, Will."

  


* * *

  


From then on, it's like a switch is flipped. Every single moment from waking to restless slumber and back is filled with obsessive thoughts; every formerly innocent image or passing phrase now laden with multiple layers of entendre. No matter which way she turns in class or in the crowded hallways, her days are filled with torments and temptations galore, inspiring her already abundantly overactive imagination to fresh heights and forbidden depths. Where these fantasies are being dredged up from Willow has no earthly idea, and from the look of them she's better off remaining clueless as to their origin.

To her surprise, her childhood scenarios involving Xander don't translate as well to her current fixation. Not that the notion of sex with a guy has gone by the wayside, or so she insists. Maybe it's just that a girl -- and a really hot one at that -- was the one to give voice to desire Willow had never consciously admitted. As for Oz, her traitorous brain can't seem to make that connection either, but Willow finds herself too stricken with lust to care.

Otherwise, her freshly discovered capacity for perversity is equal opportunity: One minute she's picturing Cordy on her knees, relishing the screams as she applies a variety of instruments to the bitch's behind, from stinging paddles to welt-raising whips; the next she's submitting to the girl in gym class whose name she can never remember, being smothered under chunky, generous buttocks as throaty groans entreat her to shove her tongue deeper, _deeper_ , and more. With every bath and shower her fingers grow bolder (always with the strictest of hygiene), spurred on by carefully anonymized Internet searches which spawn still greater visions of that one particularly oddly shaped plug made of flexible artificial rubber. It haunts her dreams, eased all the way up her imaginary ass with the aid of more than generous lubrication and fingers that dance and skate across the straining, swollen bud of her clitoris. At which point Willow comes fully awake, struggling and squirming as she desperately yanks pajama bottoms and sopping underwear completely off before laying back and mimicking her dream; thighs open wide, feet framing her face, her hips shamelessly thrusting at the ceiling as she stares wide-eyed at her own spread open flesh and frigs herself to a shattering orgasm, biting down on her blanket to keep from waking both parents. Knowing her luck, Sheila would call 911 before barging in.

She chickens out on ordering the plug, too nervous about the logistics of payment and delivery to actually follow through. Still, the Internet continues to provide helpful advice.

Very helpful.

  


* * *

  


For someone whose mouth started all this in the first place, Faith remains frustratingly oblivious to Willow's plight. She tries not to take it personally; after all, Buffy really seems to thrive on that Slayer bond, something absent in her life since Kendra's death at the hands of Drusilla. Still, it's hard not to feel a tiny bit of resentment when your best friend -- and occasional fantasy on more than one occasion, if Willow is being at all honest with herself -- hits it off and hooks up with the living, breathing object of your current obsession. Because that's certainly what Faith has become, much to Willow's surprise as the weeks go by and her maddening desire continues to crystallize and gain focus. It's harder to picture the dark Slayer in any kind of submissive position or role, but that doesn't stop a clever and creative person like Willow from coming up with a few. Mostly though, and quite predictably, it's all too easy to imagine being teased, taunted, smacked around, taken advantage of and outright pillaged -- no, fucking _violated_ \-- by the girl who only has eyes for her best friend.

Not for the first time, Willow reflects on the inherent unfairness of life.

Clearly, it's time to stack the deck.

  


* * *

  


Faith plops down on the couch and exhales a dejected puff of air. "Ever get the feeling you're invisible?"

"Not me personally, but -- never mind." Willow tries to keep her eyes down, focused on the ironically festive umbrella adorning her glass. Apparently, Faith's lack of fake ID stops her from ordering drinks about as well as it stops her from buying them for Willow.

"I mean, you spend this much time with someone, workin' together, you'd think --" Faith shakes her head. "I dunno. Maybe it's me."

Willow wavers before biting down on the bullet. "You mean...Buffy?"

Faith glances over, looking equal parts puzzled and irritated. "Naw, Nancy Reagan. Who the fuck else?"

"Sorry," Willow mumbles, dropping her gaze. But Faith reaches out and grabs her hand before she can turn away.

"Nah, it's all good. I'm a jerk. Sit."

Willow allows herself to be drawn down beside Faith. She's positive nobody's even glancing in their direction, but it feels as though all eyes are on her.

"You're her best friend, right?"

"I --" Willow hesitates, thinking it over. "Um...maybe? She, uh...doesn't make new friends very easily. I mean, she tries, but --"

"It's real simple, y'know?" Faith's frustration is plain, the naked emotion written clear as day on her face. "I just wanna know. Do I even have a shot?"

Willow tries not to gape, her whirling thoughts abruptively, explosively scattered. "I'm...probably not the best person to ask."

She says it like the apology it is. Faith only looks more puzzled, and more irritated.

"Oh, come on. You knew her before Angel, so --" Faith breaks off, trepidation coloring her voice. "Oh shit, _you've_ got a thing for her? Oh man, I'm -- I am such an idiot sometimes. Seriously, just forget I --"

"No! I mean...not exactly." Willow can feel her cheeks begin to smolder, helped along by the hot overhead lights of the Bronze. "I mean -- she's..."

"Yeah." Faith laughs and shakes her head. "She definitely is."

  


* * *

  


Like before, Willow has little idea how she ended up here. It seems like such a leap from offering to walk someone home after dark for a better defense against vampires. But Faith had been the perfect gentleman all the way, even when faced with the most threadbare excuse imaginable disguised as an invitation up to her room; even after the door clicks shut behind them and all Willow can feel is a cloud of terrified butterflies tying her stomach in knots. The smallest of small talk, and she's on the very verge of giving up hope when their eyes meet and she sees the unmistakable fire, the certain knowledge of mutual attraction and awareness.

"Well." Faith wears an odd little crooked smile as she slowly strides toward a paralyzed Willow, who takes a step back of her own before being stopped by the wall behind. "What do we have here, huh?"

Willow's vaunted vocabulary appears to have deserted her. Faith's body presses against her, lush and lean, warm breath ghosting the flesh of her neck.

"How long?"

"Wha--"

"How long --" Faith's knee gives a subtle nudge, encouraging her thighs to part, her skirt to ride up. "Have you wanted this."

"Weeks." Willow fights back an undignified whimper as fingers stroke her hair, then pinch her cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Ever since --"

"Since what?" The tease in Faith's voice grows husky, further softening her insides. Willow realizes she's stepping back and forth, desperately rubbing her thighs together like she has to pee. 

"Not to toot my own horn," Faith continues with a chuckle. "But I'm a fair hand at the whole forbidden fantasy thing. So..."

Fingers grip the hair at the base of her neck, encouraging her to look up. The Slayer's eyes are endless, a universe to lose herself in.

"What's on your mind?"

Willow shudders, clutching blindly at Faith's shoulders. "You said -- ah! -- pain in the...ass..."

"Oh ho." A liquid murmur sends ripples through all the right places, the strength of the Slayer's grip keeping Willow pinned upright against the wall. "And?"

"Show me --" Willow inhales the other woman's scent, struggling to form the words. "Show me -- the fun way..."

"Ah." Faith's knee shoves gently but firmly, further in and up. "Bossy little thing, aintcha?"

"Sorry --"

"Better be," Faith mumbles. "Or I might have to beat your ass before I fuck it --"

An actual squeal emerges from Willow's mouth and chokes off as she clamps her lips shut, silently writhing against Faith in an attempt to suppress further outbursts. 

"You sure?" Faith's harsh whisper sounds abruptly worried. "What about your --"

"Trust me," Willow murmurs, leaning her head on the Slayer's shoulder. "Any hint of sex will keep my mother far away from this room. Especially anything that smacks of the subversive." 

"I'll give _you_ a smack." Faith's hand finds her chin, tipping Willow's face up to meet her gaze. "Whaddaya think about that?"

Another tiny whimper escapes as Willow manages to not look away. "Um...okay?"

Another flicker of concern, deep down within those endless eyes. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No! I mean --" Willow tries to calm her racing thoughts. "I just want it to be good for you too, you know? Though -- not like I have much experience with guys either..."

The snort of amusement is barely audible. Still, now Faith is the one to look away.

"Seriously." Willow's eager shines through despite the shyness. "I could use magick to give you a penis --"

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," Faith chuckles. "I haven't known you that long."

Willow can feel her cheeks once more turn scarlet as Faith continues.

"Besides...I don't need a cock to give you the assfuckin' you deserve."

Willow gulps and her heart flutters; goosebumps rising as Faith lifts her legs, wrapping them around her own waist. She can feel cool air on the exposed flesh of her thighs, the velvet caress between her legs of the frilly silk underwear she'd been holding onto for just the right moment. Faith's hands find her ass and give a firm squeeze, holding her aloft.

"Yeah...you kiddin'? Take away my main advantage." Fingers stroke the thin layer of satin containing her now-throbbing cunt and that's exactly what it feels like right now, Willow muses as she recalls the volumes of Victorian erotica on Mom's bookshelves. Faith is still talking, her voice a luminous purr.

"Strap one of those things on me, I'd be fightin' not to pop off before I even got it in ya. Tight little thing like that..." Both hands give another good, hard squeeze to Willow's cheeks. "Mmm..."

A matching moan echoes in the depths of Willow's chest, descending to join the boil and bubble down below.

"Yeah," Faith growls. "Most guys wouldn't take the time to do it right. Wouldn't have the patience." A cruel chuckle. "Or the stamina."

Willow can feel her hips tremble as the tips of Faith's questing fingers dip inside her, little teasing touches inflaming her passion further still.

"But don't worry, baby. I won't hurt you." Another audible, tiny smile. "Not in a bad way."

Willow realizes her thighs are being elevated, spread further as Faith presses harder, keeping her pinned against the wall. One hand leaves her ass to roam freely, plucking playfully at the hem of her shirt. 

"So, you got a preference? 'Cause if it's up to me, I'm stickin' with the tried and true." The hand still holding her up gives another squeeze. "How about it, Red? You ever let your fingers do the walkin'?"

"Every night," Willow manages to choke out. "For the last -- two -- wee-eeeee--!"

"Easy, Trigger." Faith laughs again, a low and liquid chuckle. "If your mom doesn't care, how's about I run downstairs? See what you got in the fridge?"

"Wha--"

"I bet you got some nice fat zucchini down there that's just dyin' to be put to better use."

"Uh!" Willow closes her eyes, racked with shudders. "Why -- is being scandalized -- so sexy?"

"I'd just say I was gonna fuck you with it." Faith leans in again, sounding almost as tightly wound up as Willow. "I wouldn't tell her I was gonna fuck your ass."

Somehow, Willow does not scream aloud. Instead she grabs Faith in a death hug and kisses with all the strength in her body. The Slayer stumbles back for a moment before regaining control, turning and lowering them to the bed. Willow has enough time to be embarrassed about her cartoon pillowcase and bedsheets before seeing that Faith is standing up, stripping off her clothes with hasty precision before tossing them aside and crawling on top of her.

"Here's how it's gonna be," Faith breathes. "At least for now."

Willow stares, wide-eyed, as Faith reverses and squats over her. The smell is similar to her own, just different enough to inspire a tiny fear of the unknown. The sight is breathtaking, so much so that it takes her a minute to realize Faith is lifting and spreading her legs, tucking up her skirt, pulling her underwear to one side.

"There we go..." Faith's voice is ragged with lust. Willow can feel herself being peeled open, the slick sound yet more testament to her arousal, and a fresh flood comes at the thought that Faith is excited by looking at this. At _her_.

Faith lowers herself further, completely enveloping Willow; she opens her mouth wide, both for air and to push her tongue out as far as possible. Faith is already making encouraging sounds, rocking back and forth atop her even as she pulls Willow's legs back all the way, one finger sliding inside before Willow knows what's happening. Willow redoubles her efforts, and is instantly rewarded with a second finger joining the first, pushing slowly in and out with the heel of Faith's hand heavy on her clitoris.

She has no idea how long it actually takes Faith to get around to fucking her ass, between losing track of time and being freshly embarrassed each little step of the way. But all it takes is one of those magic fingers patiently making its way inside that trembling, twitching ring of muscle and Willow goes off like a string of firecrackers, Faith's remaining fingers filling up the clasping, gaping need of her pussy in a chain reaction as the finger in her ass drives ever further inward; Faith is yelling, grinding down harder, and the only thing that keeps Willow going is when the Slayer leans forward to give her a bit of precious air. Her hands rise, grabbing Faith by the hips and returning the favor of spreading her wide, and Willow screams into her, lapping furiously at the meat of her cunt, the twitching pucker of her own asshole as Faith wracks and wrings the living hell out of her.

Some time later, Willow fully regains consciousness. Abruptly, she sits up, looking around the room. Alone; only the smell of sex and her own aching aftershock as evidence. Her heart sinks even as her body shivers to recall what had taken place.

Suddenly the doorknob turns. Willow barely has time to grab a sheet, but it's just Faith, still stark naked, drying her hands with a towel.

"Hey." The Slayer sounds casual, then notices the look on Willow's face. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Willow tries to sound unpathetic. "I thought you were gone."

"Can't get rid of me that easy." Faith turns away, but not before Willow can see the look in her eye. "Was hopin' I could stay for dinner."

"I -- sure." Willow relaxes into the pillows, gazing fondly at the other woman's backside. "You can meet my mom --"

"Already did."

  


* * *

  



End file.
